


"and there was one bed" "oh my god there was only one bed"

by thealienmeme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cuddles, Cuddling, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Spooning, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, oh my god there was only one bed, saw a post asking how heaven and hell didn't smell them, this is obviously why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23761183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme/pseuds/thealienmeme
Summary: crowley and aziraphale visit anathema post-almost Armageddon for some tea and a chat. as they're recalling their adventures as each other, anathema points out a very obvious flaw that should've outed their scheme, so how did they get away with it?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 212





	"and there was one bed" "oh my god there was only one bed"

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory "there was only one bed fic" and ONCE AGAIN shoutout to aeron and kaleigh who always proof-read these before i post 'em

_ Spring 2020 _

Anathema took a sip of her coffee and closed her eyes as two ancient beings sat across from her and giggled like a pair of five year olds in a post-cookie jar heist haze. 

In all honesty, she hadn’t planned on becoming friends with Aziraphale and Crowley after their brief stint as whatever the opposite of the Avengers are at the almost-end-of-the-world. But if there is one thing she’s learned, it’s that you can both not plan something and yet still expect it. 

She was odd, she was in a country she was grossly unfamiliar with, and she could use a quirky friend or two. Who else was she going to chat with? Diedre Young? No, she found she had much more in common with an angel and a demon ( _ an ex-angel and ex-demon?  _ she thought to herself) than with any other human within a 10-mile radius. 

“And then, oh you should’ve seen his face, book girl, you should have  _ seen _ the horror,” Crowley burst into another fit of giggles, Aziraphale following close behind. “Well, that’ll show them. Hopefully. Right, angel?” 

Crowley had his boot on the table and was leaning so far back, that the front two legs of his chair were in the air. Aziraphale snapped and the front legs slammed onto the ground. Crowley, who had been sipping his tea, snorted into the drink as he jerked forward and gave Aziraphale a Look. Aziraphale simply smiled and produced a handkerchief for Crowley to wipe himself off with before turning to Anathema. 

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be leaving us alone for quite some time, now,” He reached over to take the handkerchief back. “We’re still riding the high of actually pulling it off, you see.” 

Anathema nodded. She could understand the giddiness that came with sudden and abrupt freedom. 

“Not that it isn’t a great story and, well, clearly you pulled it off, but I do have one question,” Anathema paused to set her cup down. “How did they, you know… you guys… well… I mean…” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow and Aziraphale cocked his head to the side. 

“How didn’t they smell you?” Anathema finally decided that was the best way to phrase her question, though it wasn’t exactly what she meant. 

“Smell… us? Do we smell bad to you?” Crowley asked in a way that sounded both playful and genuinely confused. 

“Well,” Anathema thought a little harder. “No. I mean, not in the literal sense. But, well, can’t you  _ sense _ each other? Your auras or essences?” 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, who was already looking back at him. Crowley looked like he was searching for an answer in the confusion on Aziraphale’s face. 

“Well, there was that one time with Gabriel…” Azriaphale started. “He could tell Crowley had been in the bookshop.” 

Crowley shifted in his seat. 

“When was this?” His arms were crossed and he looked a bit surprised. 

“Right after Adam’s birthday, when Dog had finally found him and all that,” Aziraphale smoothed down the front of his jacket, though there hadn’t been any visible wrinkles. “You stayed for a drink or two.” 

Anathema looked back and forth between them. 

“So, you can, then? Smell each other, I mean,” She picked up their cups and walked toward the sink. “Funny, then, how they couldn’t seem to smell that you weren’t who you were pretending to be. Did you switch colognes or something?” 

Anathema turned the sink on and grabbed the sponge. The smell of lavender filled the kitchen as she washed up. She turned back around when no one had spoken for a few seconds. 

“Well?” They were both blushing. “What? What am I missing?” She turned the sink back off and wiped her hands on her skirt before placing them on her hips. 

She couldn’t help but giggle at their expressions. Crowley was turned away from Aziraphale and was studying the ground with great intent, while Aziraphale was worrying at his lip and twisting his fingers together. 

“You guys look like a couple of middle schoolers caught smoking during recess,” She walked back over to the table and sat down, crossing her right leg over her left and smiling. 

“Are you going to share with the class?” 

Crowley opened his mouth a few times, but no sounds came out. Aziraphale coughed. 

“You see, there was, well the night before, we had…We thought surely we might die,” Aziraphale kept interrupting himself in his rush to explain whatever it was they were trying to get out. “And, well, it was… we… there… Crowley, uh, suggested we get some rest.” 

Anathema looked at Aziraphale dumbly. 

“So you took a nap? That doesn’t really call for these dramatics. You had had a long day, you know, we all did.” 

Anathema thought back to how exhausted her and Newt had been for the week following the events of that fateful summer afternoon. She had never slept so much. 

“You know what? I think we’d better go, we should go shouldn't we?” Crowley burst up from his chair and looked at his watch. “Wow would you look at the time! Should start heading out. Angel?” 

Aziraphale slowly rose from his seat, smiling warmly at Anathema. 

“Yes, dear, I think we should, er, there’s some things we should talk about in, well, private,” Aziraphale tucked in his chair and gently grabbed Anathema’s hands. “We’ll be in touch. And thank you so much for the tea and biscuits.” 

Anathema stared at them as they practically ran out of Jasmine Cottage and into Crowley’s car. 

“Uh… bye! I guess,” Anathema waved as they pulled out of their parking spot which  _ had _ to be illegal and watched them drive down the lane. “They are such an odd couple.” 

The Bentley was quite minus the dim hum of what was probably a Queen song*.

*and if it wasn’t, it soon will be

“Do you think it’s because we-” Crowley started to say. 

“Yes, dear, I think it just might be because we…” 

Crowley swallowed and stared down the road. His knuckles were turning white. The Bentley thrummed. 

They drove for a few more minutes, winding down the countryside road. The sun was setting and everything felt like it had been covered in golden syrup. The air was thick but somehow sweet. 

“It didn’t have to mean anything-” 

“I didn’t mind being so-” 

Aziraphale stopped and sighed softly. He turned toward Crowley and put a hand on his leg, which was bouncing wildly. 

“I didn’t mind being so close, you know,” Aziraphale whispered. He began to stroke the fabric of Crowley’s jeans. “You know, Heaven, they’re not very cuddly and, well, it was nice.” 

Crowley sighed and shuddered as he remembered the cold, white walls of Heaven and the even colder stares of the angels. 

“We could… do it, again?” Crowley said it like a question. He knew well enough that whatever conversation they were having hidden in this one was full of feelings and confessions - the sort of sap you find on the Hallmark Channel*. And he didn’t know if he was quite ready to face it head-on, but he did know that he had never slept as well as that night before their escapades as each other. 

*Crowley would know, as the inventor of Hallmark movies. 

Aziraphale smiled warmly at him. 

“I would like that,” He patted Crowley’s knee and turned back to face forward. “Very much, actually.” 

Crowley coughed. 

“Good. M-me too,” He felt himself begin to blush. He could feel that Aziraphale had turned to smile at him, again. Before he could make some snarky comment, Aziraphale reached out and grabbed Crowley’s left hand from the steering wheel and held it in his own. He set their hands down on the seat space between them like it was nothing. Like he had done it a hundred times. 

Crowley nearly fainted when Aziraphale started stroking his thumb along the back of Crowley’s hand. 

This was going to take some getting used to, but God-Satan-Whoever, was it worth it. 

*

_ Mayfair. Summer 2019. The night after a group of rag-tag humans and two ethereal beings saved the world.  _

“Ok, angel, I don’t know about you, but I’m beat,” Crowley shed his jacket and threw it on the black, blocky couch in his living room. “You should get some rest, too, we have a big day tomorrow.” 

Although they didn’t know what exactly they were going to do, Crowley knew that tomorrow they’d most likely be confronted by Heaven, Hell, or worse - both. 

He turned to find Aziraphale still hovering by the door. 

“Come on in, it won’t bite you.” 

Aziraphale shuffled further in, bowing his head in a small gesture of thanks as Crowley offered him a blanket. 

“Do you sleep? I can’t remember. I feel like I can see you curl up with a good book in bed, but I’m not sure sleeping would actually happen,” Crowley began to shed off his accessories, placing them in little bowls on the table. 

“Er, no, not much, but I suppose I am feeling a bit weary,” Aziraphale was taking his shoes off and carefully placing them by the door. 

“Well, guest’s honor, you can have the bed,” Crowley walked down the hallway and opened a large, black door. “It’s a king and let me tell you the sheets are glorious, you are going to sleep like a baby.” 

Aziraphale peeked his head into the room and took note of the bed. It was quite large and the sheets looked soft and welcoming. 

“Oh, um, where will you sleep?” Aziraphale looked back at the blocky couch in the living room, which barely seemed fit for sitting let alone sleeping. 

“I’ll figure something out, the couch isn’t actually as bad as your stare is telling me you think it is.” 

Aziraphale pursed his lips and stared at the bed, again. 

“You know, dear, it’s a big bed,” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, who was staring at him with a thin layer of terror. “We could… share it. The bed.” 

Neither of them said anything. 

Aziraphale huffed, embarrassed. 

“Oh, forget I said anything - I do apologize, I didn’t mean to, well, I didn’t mean to push you, I simply - I mean, I thought, maybe it would be nice.” He gave Crowley a wobbly smile. 

“Nice.” 

“Yes, that’s what I said.” 

“I’m not nice.” 

“Well, then, fine, if you want to sleep on the rock that you call furniture in your living room-” 

“Angel, calm down, I will sleep in the bed with you, ok?” Crowley put his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders and guided him further into the room and to one side of the bed. 

“Well, don’t feel like you must-” 

“I want to.” Crowley snapped and he was wearing a pair of soft cotton pajama bottoms and a worn ACAB shirt. 

“Oh.” 

Aziraphale looked at the edge of the bed as Crowley crawled in. 

“Well?” Crowley drawled, leaning on one of his elbows. “Are you coming?” 

Aziraphale fidgeted a little more. Staring at the blankets like they might come to life and bite him at any moment. 

“Don’t I need pajamas?” Aziraphale eyed up Crowley’s new attire. 

Crowley rolled his eyes and snapped, again. Now Aziraphale’s usual fussy getup was gone and instead he was wearing a pair of matching tartan pajamas. Aziraphale looked down at his new outfit and smiled. 

“Thank you, Crowley, they’re quite comfy,” Here, he wiggled happily. “But where did my-?” 

“On the dresser. Folded. Neatly. They wouldn’t dare wrinkle.” Crowley turned over so he was facing the wall and had all the blankets pulled up to his chin. 

Aziraphale tentatively sat down on the bed, noticing that no matter how much he moved, the rest of the mattress stayed incredibly still. He slowly pulled back the sheets and tucked himself under them. They felt wonderful and more heavenly than any delicacy he has had in 6,000 years. He turned to Crowley and noticed that the blankets were now covering his ears, too. 

“It’s a bit cold, isn’t it?” Aziraphale asked into the darkness of the room. 

“Did you want me to turn the heat up?” Crowley turned around and raised his hand to snap heat into existence. 

“You know, I did read somewhere that huddling together can be very warm.” 

“Angel?” 

“Yes?” 

“If you wanted a little snuggle, all you had to do was ask.” Crowley said in a sarcastic tone paired with a sly smirk, but Aziraphale could see the uncertainty in his eyes. 

Aziraphale looked away from him and at the ceiling for a moment before coming to a resolution and opening his arms. He could feel Crowley’s eyes grow a little wide at the sight, as if he hadn’t expected him to actually go through with it. 

“Come on, then,” Aziraphale said, making a grabbing motion with his hands. 

“Who said I wanted to be the little spoon?” Crowley grumbled. 

Aziraphale just looked at him, now with his own smirk. 

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. As their fit turned into giggles, Crowley scooted closer to Aziraphale and let the angel’s arms encircle him. He immediately felt settled, grounded. He was suddenly solid in a way he hadn’t felt before. 

And warm. 

Aziraphale buried his face into Crowley’s hair and breathed in. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you smell delightful?” Aziraphale mumbled into the crown of Crowley’s head. 

“No one’s ever gotten this close,” Crowley replied. 

“Well, then, I guess I should consider myself lucky,” Aziraphale began making small strokes along Crowley’s hip. 

“I guess you should.” 

Crowley had every intention of asking Aziraphale if they wanted to talk about this (whatever  _ this _ was) but as soon as those soft hands started making their pattern up and down his hip, Crowley felt every question, every fear, every thought, every well-thought out and long-time-coming confession slowly drift away from him until he was slipping in unconsciousness. 

He had never slept so peacefully. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, check out my other GOmens fics!!! kudos and comments are always welcome - don't be shy and thanks for reading!!


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